29
Ryder
When I first saw Sinclair being all chummy with Trina at the Heritage Festival, I felt a tinge of anger. Trina ripped my heart out and stomped on it like it was a disgusting bug. But Trina was carrying my child and she needed someone to support her, and of course, Sinclair, who was the baby’s aunt, should be there. I was still angry and hurt, but I didn’t want Trina to be alone and until I could forgive her and move on as friends, Sinclair was the best help for her.
I pushed them out of my head as I went behind the outdoor stage to tune my guitar and prepare for the set with my band. When I heard Sinclair talking, we stopped and walked over to the side of the stage to get ready to go on. I was shocked when she introduced Trina. Had Trina admitted to not finishing the bet and this was her payback?
“I…ah…I’m here to introduce...Ryder…ah…”
“Ryder Simms is a traitor,” a man called from the audience.
Immediately, I could see her stiffen and her gaze cruised the audience for the heckler. It stopped on Earl Nesbit.
“Is that you Earl?” she yelled out. “You have some nerve calling Ryder a traitor. Does your wife know you sit at Kelly Wheeler’s table at Salvation Station so you can ogle her ass each night you’re out drinking?”
My lips twitched up at that. The audience oohed while Earl shrank and his wife glared at him.
Trina put her fists on her hips. “Anyone else have something negative to say about Ryder?” She scanned the audience again. I worried she might scare them off.
“I know you all know how the deputy mayor and Wyatt Jones got married to join forces for the farmers. At the time of their first wedding, well…that was fake. Of course, it took no time at all to become real, but they had the gall to say that being fake married was hard. Can you believe it? I mean, you’ve seen them, right?”
The members of the audience nodded.
“So, me and Ryder told them they were full of sh—malarkey. Being fake married couldn’t be hard. They insisted it was and bet us that we couldn’t stay fake married for a month.”
“That’s crazy,” someone yelled.
“Being fake married to Ryder would be a piece of cake,” a woman called out.
What was she saying? I stepped up onto the side of the stage, my heart pounding in my chest as I couldn’t stop the hope that maybe she’d come around.
Her gaze held mine as she said, “You’re right. The truth is, being fake married to Ryder was really easy. And it was the happiest time of my life. The hard part has been being separated from him.”
My breath hitched.
“Didn’t he knock you up?” someone yelled.
Her head whipped around to her next heckler.
“Ryder Simms gave me love and a baby when I don’t deserve either.” She glanced at me again. “I hope to have a chance to earn both back again. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Ryder and the Storm.”
The crowd clapped as me and my bandmates stepped out onto the stage. I wanted to ask her what she meant. Was I reading the signs right? Or was this just to make peace because of the baby? I wanted to think it meant she wanted me back. Afterall, public speaking wasn’t something she would sign up to do. Was this a grand gesture? With that said, maybe she was just wanting to make peace. Perhaps even she was simply paying her debt to Sinclair for losing the bet.
She stepped back from the microphone as I reached it. I watched her for a moment but I needed to play my set. I couldn’t stop to ask her what she meant by everything she said.
“Happy Harvest Festival Salvation,” I drawled into the mic. “You ready for some music?”
I got some yells, but I’d played enough in Salvation to know the audience wasn’t as enthusiastic as it used to be when we played. It had to be because of the Stark gig. I hoped I’d be able to win them back.
“I know I’ve done you all wrong, but I’ve got a special song just for you. It’s my tribute to Salvation and my apology to my sister, Deputy Mayor Sinclair Jones, and to you, Salvation.” I counted out the beat and me and my band began the upbeat song I’d written for the town. At first people were a little slow to get into it, but by the time I was done, they were clapping, dancing, and even singing the chorus.
I turned to Sinclair, who with Trina was standing at the side of the stage. “If you like to take it as a campaign song, it’s yours, Deputy Mayor.”
She grinned and gave me a thumbs up. Trina looked to me and then Sinclair and I saw awe and maybe a little envy. I’d remembered seeing that in her when we were kids and she stayed at our house for a week or so. It was the first time I realized that her home life wasn’t as good as mine and Sinclair’s. Not just that her parents had disappeared, but she seemed surprised by all the free time and little responsibility me and Sinclair had. At first it took her a while to join in when we joked and laughed as a family, as if it was something she’d never experienced before.
After that first song, the set went as usual with the audience singing the old songs we’d often played before and having a good time. I’d often look over to the side of the stage, wondering if I’d hallucinated Trina’s speaking in public and saying things that made me wonder if she wanted to be with me. Each time I glanced over, she was watching me. She didn’t smile, but she didn’t look mad. Mostly it appeared she was studying me, as if she
